Sitges 2011: EL CALLEJON (BLIND ALLEY) Review

You never know quite what path Antonio Trashorras is going to take you
on. He first gained international attention in 2001 with his screenplay
of The Devil's Backbone, a haunting ghost story set in the Spanish
Civil War; last year his screenplay for Agnosia was a costume drama
romantic crime film. His feature directorial debut, El Callejon (which
means 'blind alley') is an outrageously fun homage to exploitation and
slasher cinema. With nods to directors such as Dario Argento and Jess
Franco, it is definitely made for lovers of the genre: a well-controlled
and campy film that packs a colourful punch and leaves the audience
guessing to the last moment.

Rosa is a young girl from Cuba, working as a maid in a coastal resort hotel. She dreams of a better life as a dancer on a television
show, and when she gets a call-back, she is forced to go an all-night
laundrette on a gloomy, dead end street to wash her sparkly dresses.
There, she meets a handsome man who seems quiet and charming; but as
anyone who has watched a film such as this, we should all beware of
wolves in sheeps' clothing. And Gabriel does turn out to be a wolf,
trapping Rosa inside the laundrette taunting her with threats of killing
her sister (with whom she lives nearby) or her, or possibly both. Rosa
must survive the night with no hope of rescue.

In a normal slasher film, Rosa would be the girl who is killed fairly
early in the film: virginal but naive, not particularly smart and
thereby vulnerable to a nasty killer. Rosa survives this film is a combination of luck and skill, which keeps the story very interesting. Ana de Armas plays Rosa with just the right amount
of innocence and sex appeal. We first meet her in the opening credits,
as she performs her audition with spunk and more than a hint of
desperation. No one listens to her when she expresses her desires, her
dreams, or her need for help. Diego Cadavid's Gabriel is the perfect
foil: he has no psychological trauma to be understood, he's just a
monster, and he knows the perfect victim when he sees her. He relishes
in his nastiness, and can indeed wait all night to get Rosa, enjoying
every moment of her torture.

Trashorras displays an incredible skill for filming architecture, and
conveying the affect that space has on a story. The opening scenes show
the vast space in which Rosa is barely a speck: a coastal city dedicated
to a decadence she can never have. She is relegated to this dark and
dank corner, where she is the only spot of colour. As Gabriel traps her
in the laundrette, that space becomes both her refuge and her enemy. At
times the camera lurks in the corners as if willing Rosa to succumb to
fear and death. Other times it closes in on her, as if trying to whisper
the secrets to defeating her enemy. It's not easy to keep a film
interesting when set in virtually a single location. Trashorras is
careful not to waste a frame, and as Rosa's nightmare drags on, he keeps
putting the pressure on both victim and killer, and the audience, to
think and think fast.

And like any good exploitation film, this is not just about watching a
girl get tortured. There are some larger themes at play, mainly
loneliness and isolation. With a boyfriend who doesn't respect her, a
boss who treats her like dirt, and a city that rejects her, Rosa as an
immigrant is constantly being forced into a metaphoric corner - and in
this film, a literal one as well. But also like any good exploitation
film, El Callejon concentrates on that pretty girl and her killer in a dialogue
of love, lust and death, with plenty of blood and scares to keep the
audience cheering.